Day 10 Glespin to Carlisle

I was awake before six, porridged, read, packed and re-buttered by 7am, and soon on the backroad to Crawfordjohn.Mornings were still a struggle to get going though, with generally a short-lived knee twinge and an overwhelming feeling of terminal lassitude. At Crawfordjohn I took a wee backroad loop to join the B road near Abington, and it was a car-free delight. A final hill led to the NCN74 and the blue sign had the single word 'SOUTH'. At last.There was a cycle path next to the road, very gravelly and rubbish-strewn, and after a confusing roundabout I had no option but to join the A 702 to Abington where a large brown sign proclaimed SCOTLAND'S HIGHEST VILLAGE. Many people arrive in Abington and think they've reached the highest village. I know I did. I even wrote it in my journal. It wasn't until later that I realised that the crown goes to Wanlockhead, another 15 miles away at around 1500 metres above sea level.The truth is that Abington is only three hundred feet higher than the West Bromwich Albion stadium in Birmingham. Poor Wanlockhead; Abington's taking all your custom! Meanwhile I went to the cafe in Abington, ordered a coffee ("Are you setting in?" "I certainly

Abington....or is it?

am!") and wrote "Just arrived in Scotland's highest village!" in my journal. Muppet. The NCN74 south was a mixed bag of off road path and on road cycle lane, initially along the A702, then onto the B7076. The B road was busier than I'd expected, and not particularly pleasant. The cycle lanes were sometimes ridiculously narrow, or unrepaired. The trafficlanes would be glass-smooth, while the cycle lane could have been used as a testing ground for those Mars Rover machines. I pulled off at Beattock and found the shop located in the camping site, and bought sandwiches. The proprietor let me eat sitting on the settee in the reception area. It was a haven of peace after the road and the continual roar of 
the M74. Near Lockerbie it got even worse; there were a lot of large trucks on the B road, and one Marks and Spencer lorry had me wobbling. I couldn't work out why until I saw a busy truck stop south of the village.With its wind factories, plantations and pylons the countryside heavily bore the mark of man. Coupled with the incessant noise of the motorway and the dangerous driving it put me in a bad mood. It was a place I just didn’t want to be, and completely at odds with my traffic-free plans. I might have been better off crossing over to the valley and following the unclassified roads on the east bank of the River Annan. The only good thing I can say about this section was that it just made me put my head down, and pedal like fury to get it over with. Then just when things looked as though things couldn’t get any worse it started to drizzle, and the clouds descended to shroud the valley sides.In my mad go-for-it mood I soon passed Ecclefechan, and just through Kirtlebridge some 6k’s later the B road followed the motorway so close it was like another lane. It was truly horrible, and you couldn’t hear yourself scream.  
Then joy of joys the NCN74 turned onto a wee rural lane. It was instant bliss, like when the dentist finally stops using the drill and tells you to rinse your mouth out. The motorway roar diminished to an insect hum, verdant fields beckoned, sunbeams filtered through the breaking clouds and I could hear a chorus of angels singing. I was soon through Gretna, and over the border, and the drizzle turned to a downpour. I arrived in Carlisle drenched, and without hesitation pulled into the first hotel I saw. It was almost dark; stuff camping for the night.

Day stats 120km 

815 Metres of ascent

Off road 10km

A Road 10km

B road 57km

Unclassified road 41km